A celebratory day, of sorts.

[eagle_of_words]

A Happy Bastille Day, my friends! Courfeyrac, make us laugh. Grantaire, wine. Bahorel, tell us tales of red revolution. Jehan, a poem. Our Fearless Leader need only stand by and look dramatic. Joly I want to sit by my side throughout it all. As for the rest of you, do something appropriate. All of you, by God, excuse my illness

Comments

[capital_r]

WINE! Because it's got medicinal properties, you know. Er. At least it makes one sleep. *cheerfully has about three bottles with him* Hurrah for the ridiculousness of patriotism, and all that sort of thing. And Fearless Leader, unfortunately (or fortunately, perhaps, though not really) is not here to celebrate this lovely occassion with us.

[eagle_of_words]

Wonderful! Nothing like taking one's medicine. *grins and relieves him of a bottle* Ah, yes. Hurrah, hurrah. That's a pity, I'll confess, and a great blow, but I suppose I'll manage.

[capital_r]

*toasts quite cheerfully* A toast to medicine! And yes, it is a great pity, mon ami. But he'll be back soon enough, I believe. *is not being bouncy about this fact, no, not Grand-R*

[eagle_of_words]

A toast! Excellent, excellent. He'll just have to join the party late. *loves Grand-R for being happy*

[capital_r]

*drinks entirely more bouncily than he normally does* I suppose he will, dear fellow. *is happy, yes, and has confused his typist by being flaily and happy and weird, which was probably his intention in the first place*

[eagle_of_words]

*grins; drinks* Perhaps we'll let him in anyway.